A Nightmare at Huntley High School
by Phoenix39
Summary: Freddy did NOT kill Glen Lantz. He's been alive this whole time as Freddy's Dream Slave, but after Glen is back in the real world, what will happen when Freddy comes back his Dream Slave? Detailed Summery and rating inside.


**A Nightmare at Huntley High School  
By Jane "Phoenix39" S.**

  
Glen Lantz (Johnny Depp's character) did NOT die. He's been alive this whole time! In 1997, Glen decides to become an English teacher. He is now teaching at Huntley High School. Jane, Jessica, Stephanie, Kelly, Alyssa, Heidi, and Natalie are all students there, and know that something weird is going on. They talk about it in the abandoned halls, not knowing that Mr. Lantz is just around the corner. He knows how Freddy works. So, he decides to help the girls. This is my first attempt at something _really_ dark

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the roiginal characters, who are actually based off of my friends. And just FYI, I haven't Freddy 2 or 3 yet, so I don't really know if Freddy _did_ really kill Marge. If he didn't, don't murder me. I will really appriciate it. Thanks!

Rated R for: strong language, strong horror/gore, and strong action violence.

This story is post Freddy vs. Jason.  
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"Meanwhile, whatever you do, _don't_ fall asleep!" Nancy demanded over the phone. There was a click on the other line, so Glen Lantz hung up his phone.

He rolled his eyes at the other person, even though she couldn't see.

He hung up the phone and waited for midnight to come around. Nancy wanted to catch the guy in her dreams. Glen thought that all of this was just ridicules. Somebody killing people in their dreams goes against the rules of reality and the laws of physics.

_I love her,_ Glen thought, _but she needs some help._

Glen put a Michael Jackson record into the player and put his headphones on before blasting "Beat It." He lay down on his bed and put his small TV on his stomach; he turned the dial to channel 7. The door opened and his mother entered.

"Huh?" Glen said with slight exhaustion.

Glen pulled the headphones to his neck.

"How can you listen to Carson and a record at the same time?"

"Wasn't listening to the tube, jut watching. Miss Nude America's coming supposed to be on."

"Well, how are you going to hear what she says?"

"Who cares what's she's saying?"

His mother rolled her eyes.

"You should get to sleep soon, Glen. It's almost midnight. Goodness know we've had enough of a time the last few days…"

"I will, Mom… in a while. You guys turning in?"

"Pretty soon."

His mother sighed and exited the room, not knowing that that would be the last time she would she her son.

"Good night, Glen."

"G'night."

Weariness crept over Glen's body. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was 11:42.

_No, don't go to sleep yet,_ he told himself. _Miss Nude America is on._

He could no longer fight it.

_Nancy needs you._

Too late. He had fallen asleep.

_Damn you._

He was sleeping peacefully, snoring, when all of a sudden…

Two arms came through his mattress and pulled him through. He screamed and grabbed onto the bedspread, while being dragged into the hole in his bed. The arms were too strong. He lost and had to let go of the bedspread. Before he knew what happened, he found himself on the wet, moldy, concrete floor of a dark room. With a stink. Some kind of fowl stink was in the air. He got to his knees and looked down. His white shirt was dirty from the floor. He looked around him to see that the room was actually a sewer. "Where am I?" he asked himself. He started walking around the sewer with his hand on his forehead, trying to remember what had happened. He was careful where he walked to ensure that his bare feet didn't step on something nasty.

"Hello there, Glen," a cold voice called from behind him.

"What is going o--?"

He was sickened by the appearance of the man. He had horribly burned skin, like he died in a fire. It was all red and wrinkled. He looked more like a monster. He wore a brown hat, a stained green and red sweater, and ugly brown trousers. His right hand was behind back. Right by his feet, was a huge, dead hog, lying on its back. He pulled his right hand from behind his back to reveal a glove with horribly long razor knives for nails. The man thrust the glove into the hog's stomach and pulled. Blood shot up out of the hog's stomach, like a geyser. It went through a hole in ceiling of the sewer. The blood sprayed for nearly a full minute. Was there _really_ enough room in that hog for _all_ of that blood? After the 'geyser' finally stopped, Glen looked in to the hole, breath jagged, to see his room, filled with blood. _Everything_ was red.

"What… the _hell_ was that?" he asked the man.

"I just made _you_ appear dead," the man said. "You're never going to see the '_real_ world' ever again. You are going to be _here_ as _my_ slave."

"You're the guy from Nancy's dreams."

"That I am. Freddy Krueger's the name!" He held out his right hand, with the razors, as if he was crazy enough to believe that Glen was going to shake it, like they are business acquaintances meeting for the first time. "Well, give me a _fucking_ handshake!" his voice was now a demonic growl.

"I'm left handed," Glen lied.

"Do I look like I give a flying fuck? Shake my _right_ hand. You _always_ shake a person's _RIGHT_ hand to seal the deal, bitch! Hasn't your mother thought you your manners?" He paused. "I hate teenagers," he murmured.

"What deal?" Glen was scared.

"You will be my slave in the dream world. For all eternity."

"_What?_ Hell no."

_Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe Nancy's paranoia rubbed off onto me._

"Nancy's paranoia didn't rub off onto you, Glenny."

"How do you know what I was thinking?"

"It's the dream world. Anything's possible."

_What the hell's going on?_

"I will go over and finish off your paranoid, little girlfriend, while my clone stays here and 'takes care' of _you._"

"Takes care?"

"Yesssss," Freddy hissed.

Freddy stood still while a second Freddy stepped out. The two Freddys started talking to each other.

"Stay here with Glen."

"Of course. I'll be nice to him."

"Thank you."

The real Freddy walked off. Glen couldn't let him kill Nancy. With his adrenalin rushing, reflex kicked in. He broke into a run and started toward the Real Freddy. The Clone Freddy stopped him by punching him in the stomach with his left, non-razor hand.

"Nooooo! Naaaancy!"

Freddy snapped his fingers and ropes appeared from thin air and tied themselves around Glen's body. Glen tried to struggle, but after a minute, or so, he realized that the more he struggled, the tighter the ropes got. That was when he decided to just stand still. Freddy thrust his right hand in front of his body as if he tried push something back, at that, Glen flew a few feet backwards, and landed on his back into muddy sewer water. Freddy walked toward him, his shoes clicking in the soaked cement. Freddy kneeled next to Glen, and placed his razor hand on Glen's stomach and his left hand over Glen's mouth. The wrinkled skin felt horrible, like bleeding leather. Suddenly, like magic--dark magic--a rag appeared in Glen's mouth and duct appeared over it, to ensure that he could not scream. The rag made him want to gag, but he didn't have the ability. The rag was too deep. Freddy put his razor index finger on his throat and poked. Blood drizzled down to the collar of his shirt, staining it red.

"If you don't cooperate, Freddy's going to have to kill you."

Glen was scared now.

"You _better_ be scared. You going to be here for all _eternity._"

Freddy placed his razors on Glen's right arm and cut him deeply. Glen moaned through the rag and duct tape over his mouth.

How do I get out of this dream? This isn't a dream. Nancy was right. Forgive me, Nancy.

"Nancy's dead."

"No," Glen managed to muffle and she shook his head violently.

"Yesssss," Freddy hissed, nodding his head as violently as Glen. "I'm over there killing her as we--erm, _I_--speak."

Glen tried to struggle out of the ropes, but the ropes got tighter. He could feel the circulation of his arms and legs being cut off. His feet and fingers were tingling. He knew that they were probably turning purple by now. So he stopped struggling. He had concentrate hard not to struggle. He knew that subconsciously, he would struggle against the ropes.

Suddenly, in a yellow orb, the Real Freddy appeared behind the Clone Freddy.

"The _bitch_ sent me back to Dream World."

The Clone Freddy watched back into the Real Freddy, making only one Freddy left in sight.

"Your girlfriend's a smart bitch."

He snapped his fingers and the ropes, rag, and duct tape disappeared as suddenly as they appeared.

"I have a job for you. Your first assignment as my Dream Slave."

"What is it?"

Glen, now with his arms free, grasped the cuts on his arm and wiggled his finger and toes to get circulation back.

"Come."

Glen got to his feet and followed Freddy.

"You see, Glen. We are going to kill Marge."

"NO!"

"_What_ did you say to me?" Freddy snapped. "if you don't show the proper respect, then I will kill Nancy. Because she's too smart--for now--I will kill her mother."

"What does her mother have to do with this?"

"You decide, Glen: Nancy or Marge?"

Glen didn't want to say it, but he had to. Water formed at the back of his eyes.

"Kill--_ahem._ Kill… Marge." His voice trailed off on the last word.

"What was that? I couldn't hear _quite_ hear you there."

"KILL _MARGE!_"

"Alright. You have to drive up to Nancy's porch, pick her up, and _I'll_ do the rest."

Glen nodded.

"First, you need to do something about that nasty cut. Or… me feeling nice, I'll do something."

Glen hesitated. He knew that the 'nice' thing would actually be an act of evil. Freddy waved his wand, and the cuts from the razors disappeared. Glen was baffled at the act of kindness.

"I'm only being nice, so you can enter Marge's dream so I can kill her."

"I knew it."

_

Glen pulled the convertible up to the curb. Tina and Rod were in the car with him. They weren't the real Tina and Rod. They were doppelgangers, created by Freddy. Sorrow filled Glen's veins as he reminisced over the past, just hanging out with Tina, Rod, and Nancy, but he will no longer do it. Only in dreams.

Nancy strided toward the car.

"You believe this fog?" Glen asked.

Marge laughed, and replied, "I believe anything's possible."

_

Glen had no watch. He had no idea how long he has been stuck in the Dream World. He figured that if Freddy had the ability to enter peoples' dreams, maybe he could. God knows he tried. He tried desperately, with all his determination to enter Nancy's dreams and tell her that he is alive, but stuck, living in a nightmare. He couldn't do it.

One day, Freddy found out what he was trying to do, so he held his arm against a steaming pipe in the boiler room, in which they lived. The heat surged through Glen's skin and fried it. Glen screamed. Freddy wouldn't let go until Glen said what he wanted him to say.

"Say it, Glen. _Fucking_ say it!"

"_SAY WHAT?_"

"Say, 'I'm sorry, Master Freddy, for what I did! Please forgive me!"

"_I'M SORRY, MASTER FREDDY, FOR WHAT I DID! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!_"

Freddy let go.

"Are you _really_ sorry?"

"_Yes!_"

Glen placed his right hand around the ugly burn on his left arm, careful--very careful--not to touch it. It looked like raw meat. It bled profusely as steam rose.

"Try it again, and I'll kill you!"

Glen soaked the burn in the water Freddy gave him daily. Freddy needed his Dream Slave to be strong, so he gave him water and a burger each day. With Freddy being as sick and disturbing he was, Glen suspected that the burgers were actually people--Freddy's victims, but he didn't give a shit. He was too hungry. Glen poured the ice cold water over the cut. At first, it stung, but after a while, it felt great. Like he learned in Health class, in the First Aid Unit, after having rinsed a burn, he covered it with his old, raggedy blanket until the bleeding stopped.

"Nancy."

Glen closed his eyes and tears drifted down his tightly shut eyelids.

_

What seemed like years had past. Glen had no idea what day it was, what month it was, how old he was, if Nancy had moved on, if Nancy had any idea he was alive or not, he didn't even know if Freddy was still trying to kill her, or if he had given up on it, or if he had succeeded.

"Where are you, Nancy?" he asked himself.

Glen had to be in another dream. A stoner kid, named Spencer, fell asleep in the old Elm Street house. Glen had to appear on the TV, which was really turned off, and then have Freddy knock him in the head with a frying pan. He landed to the floor, clutching his forehead, which had a throbbing stabbing pain. He watched Spencer fall down a pit at the bottom of the stairs, into the Dream World, as well.

"Hey," Spencer said when he saw Glen.

"You're the dude on the TV."

"Yeah," Glen whispered. "Listen, Freddy is going to try to kill you. When you see him… _run_. Got it?"

"Whatever."

"You're baked." Glen slapped Spencer on the back of the head. "_Got it?_"

Spencer started to tweak from the drugs. He fell to the floor, laughing his ass off, like he had heard the most hilarious joke of his life.

"Get up you dumb-fuck," Glen was losing his patience. "I'm trying to save your ass."

"I'll take care of this, Glen," Freddy hissed from behind him.

"_Shit,_" Glen murmured to himself.

"Go to your room, Glen."

Glen hesitated.

"_NOW!_"

Glen ran off to his 'room.' It wasn't even a room. It was small nook on the other end of the boiler room, with a raggedy, old blanket, and no pillow. Glen sat on his blanket and covered his eyes as Freddy tortured and killed Spencer. Tears fell from his closed eyes.

When Freddy had finished killing Glen, he came back to Glen's 'room' and dropped Spencer's arm in front of Glen.

"Dinner," Freddy said.

"I'm not eating that," Glen said repulsively.

"Then _starve!_"

"Fine."

"Hell if I care."

Freddy put his foot on the arm and kicked it backward. Freddy noticed the tears in Glen's eyes.

"Awe, what's wrong, wittle, baby?"

"What year is it?"

Freddy chuckled.

"What?" he laughed.

"What year is it?" Glen repeated.

Freddy raised his shirt with is left hand and started to cut his stomach open with his razors. He cut in '1997' and with each slice, maggots fell out of his body and landed on the floor. Glen creeped backward, as far as could. It wasn't that far. He had the wall of the nook against his back.

"How is that possible?"

"This is the Dream World. You can't age."

_

Glen didn't know if it was that night, or a few nights later, but Freddy was killed, literally killed by his own daughter. Because Freddy was killed, Glen found himself sucked out of the Dream World. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at an (almost) familiar sight. It looked like his room, but everything was brown and dusty. He knew that it was the blood from 1984, when Freddy cut open the hog and sprayed its blood all over his room. He was so exhausted. He lay there, perfectly still on the bed, like a glass doll. He has been sleeping for thirteen years. It felt as though his limbs were not his. He felt out of his body. His eyelids drooped. He let his eyes, despite the fact that he was scared to death to sleep. But what was there to be afraid of? Freddy was dead. Glen needed to take his chances and see for himself, if, in fact, there was anything to be afraid of. He closed his eyes and dreamed of Nancy, and his friends, high school, life before Freddy Krueger came into it. Glen woke to see the same room. There was the smell of sulfur in the air. Was it from the blood? Maybe.

Glen got up and walked to the bathroom. He hasn't been in the house for thirteen years, but he still knew it by heart. His nights with Freddy, all Glen would dream about was his house, being back in his own bed, being with Nancy. He wanted to be back in Springwood, living his life again, more anything else in the world. He walked across the hall into the bathroom. The cold tile floor licked his feet. He looked into the mirror and was shocked at what he saw. He saw a long, scruffy beard, long, tingly, black hair down to his hips. He opened the medicine chest and took out a pair of nail scissors. He brushed all of his hair to one side, and cut it at the shoulder. The long locks fell to the cold floor. Next was the beard. He cut the short as short as he was able to. He noticed his old razor and some shaving cream. After shaving, he thought he looked cleaner, but still felt gross. After all, he hasn't bathed in thirteen years. He stripped his jeans and flannel shirt off, and entered the shower. The hot water felt great. It was the best feeling in the world. He squeezed shampoo bottle into his hand and washed his hair. It felt so great. Glen knew that he was alive again. While showering, he studied all the scars on his body that have been caused by Freddy. It looked as though he has been abused as a child, but he wasn't. He loved his parents. He needed to track them down.

When Glen finished his shower, he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked back to the sink. He picked up his old razor and a can of shaving cream. He shaved the beard stubble off his face and looked hard in the mirror, straining his eyes. How old was he? If, infact, Freddy was telling the truth, which was very unlikely, and it was 1997, that would mean that Glen Lantz is now twenty-eight-year-old.

_Do I look it?_

He walked back to his room. When he saw the brown walls, it hit him. If only he wasn't laying on his bed. If only he hadn't fallen asleep. He and Nancy would probably be married by now; they would probably have kids. He walked into his closet and rummaged through the hangers. He came across a red t-shirt. He yanked it off the hanger with enough force to pull the whole pole out of the wall. He held the red shirt and tore it to shreds with his bare hands. He was sick of the color red. There has been too much of it in his thirteen-year nightmare. After his tantrum, he kneeled on the floor and fumbled around with all the hangers on the floor until he saw something he liked. It look too 80's, but how he know? Glen needed to find out what was trendy nowadays. It wasn't red. It was blue. Just a simple blue t-shirt. He worked it on over his head. Next, he walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxer and a pair of jeans. He put the boxers on easily, but the jeans were hard get on. After all, he hasn't worn those jeans since was fifteen. He was now twenty-eight, but was skinny. He didn't eat much for the past thirteen years. He was surprised he never died from malnutrition yet. He wouldn't be surprised if he did in the next couple of days. He worked the jeans on, and looked in the mirror above his dresser.

Twenty-eight. Jet black hair down to his shoulders. Thin. Some girls will think that the skinniness was hot. He thought it was unhealthy.

_I have to get something to eat._

He put socks and a pair of gym shoes on. Then went to his parents room. In the top dresser drawer, he found a hair brush. He brought the brush through his tangled hair. It was a mess. It took forever to brush, but finally, he looked presentable to go out in public. His looked further through the drawer and found his dad's wallet and some loose cash.

_Knew it!_

He counted it. Three hundred dollars.

_Bingo!_

He placed the money in his pocket and walked out of the house, knowing that that will be the last time he will ever see his childhood home ever again. He ran through the sunlight of Elm Street. He needed to find a restaurant somewhere to think things over.

_My name is Glen Anthony Lantz. I'm fifteen-years-old--not anymore. I'm twenty-eight. I need to do something with my life. I want to finish high school, but how can I do that? That's gives me an idea: I'm going to get my GED. I'm going to college. I'm getting an English major and a teaching degree. English has always been my favorite subject._

________

**Ha! What do you think? Please R/R if you want me to continue! **


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